After Meng Yuan tied Zhao Ling's apron, he quietly stared at her every move while she was cooking, as if he was looking at a beautiful scenery, which made him intoxicated and unable to move his eyes.
This was the first time he saw Zhao Ling cook with his own eyes. He supported his cheek with one hand, leaned on the wheelchair, and watched Zhao Ling cut vegetables, cook, stir fry, add ingredients, and serve dishes. All her movements were so methodical and unhurried.
Such a day was the life of firewood, rice, oil and salt, and the years were quiet. The corners of his mouth rose unconsciously, and his eyes were full of tenderness.
When his leg disease is cured in the future, he would be able to travel the world with her, wash her hands and make soup. Just imagining it like this made him feel extremely beautiful.
For the first time in more than seven years, this empty Xuan Wang Mansion made him feel at home again.
